Aftershock
by Banshi
Summary: An introspective Draco fic, with Voldemort defeated and everything after. Draco/Hermione. *Complete*
1. Part One

Aftershock

_by Banshi_

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Draco couldn't sleep, which was hardly unusual. Tonight he was glad for the calm, the stillness that came with his house in the middle of the night. So he sat at the table in his kitchen, with all the lights out, looking through the huge windows and into the starry night.

The house was modest by Malfoy standards, and not of traditional wizarding archetecture by any stretch of the imagination. Draco had to admit that his first reaction to the building had been his very best imitation of his father. It had not been pretty.

It was proof of how much he had changed over the years, that he had kept the house, even though he didn't need to hide from the wizarding world anymore. Lucius Malfoy was dead, and Draco didn't need to hide from anything anymore.

With a flick of his wand he summoned a huge mug of hot chocolate. Even Draco Malfoy, Pureblood, had to admit that the Muggle world could do some things right. He continued looking out the window at the stars, feeling the calm wash over him as his muscles relaxed and he sank into the chair, his hands around the warm ceramic. Maybe after this he'd be able to sleep at least a few hours before going to work at the Ministry. After all, there was still a lot of cleaning up left to do.

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The Ministry offices were caught in a whirlwind of activity. A recruiting drive had gone into effect nearly as soon as Voldemort was confirmed dead. Really dead this time. Draco felt an involuntary shudder run through him as a flash of memory flitted though his mind and was gone.

"Bad day," he muttered under his breath as he unlocked his office door and walked in. He was quickly walking back out, his first task of the day firmly in hand. While his constant admonishment of "bad day" was usually a reference to that one specific day, today it proved to be for the general as well.

It was going to indeed be a very bad day.

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Standing in the lobby of Gringotts, waiting, was not something that Draco was accustomed to. Although it was common enough at the Muggle bank, where they had never heard of the Malfoys. Not that he'd been allowed to use his own name anyway.

Finally a young wizard walked up to Draco, holding out his hand. "Good morning Mr. Malfoy, it's good to see you. I understand that one of our projects is of interest to you. Though, I'm afraid that my secretary did not relay which project." Draco could see that his presence was not welcome, and that this man would be as little help as was possible if not handled quickly.

"Actually, my department has more of an interest in finding one of your project heads. She went to school with me, and one of our field agents needs her specialties." He could practically see the wheels in the other man's head turning, trying to figure out how best to thwart Draco Malfoy.

"I will check with our planning department and get back to you, Mr. Malfoy." Draco let a sneering smile cross his face, not really caring enough to stop it. Bad Day. He wasn't going to let this burocratic nonsence stop him from finishing this damned assignment as quickly as possible.

"Just point me in the direction of the department, sir. I wouldn't want to take up any more of your time." The man plastered a fake smile onto his face and a goblin came forward to escourt Draco to the planning department. Draco heaved a silent sigh of relief. At least he could take comfort in the fact that the goblins were equally nasty to everyone.

Once he was in the department, everything went smoothly, and he had the address and an owl on its way before lunch. "I don't understand how the Ministers could think that Hermione Granger would be receptive to a letter from me. Even if it was offical business." Draco muttered to himself as he went through the mindless task of double-checking the lists of Dark artifacts that were coming in from the field agents.

He was relieved when he could leave for home. His Muggle house.

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The stars were beautiful at midnight, twinkling as if they could go on forever. Hot chocolate in hand, Draco listened to the silence, the sound of absolutely nothing sharing his house with him. It was alternately comforting and frightening to think that there wasn't another living thing in his house. Not even one of those stupid Muggle plants that everyone had given him for "house warming" gifts. The people had been just Muggles though, so he hadn't cared about keeping the gifts.

It had been so strange, coming back to the world he had grown up in, after spending so many years hiding among the Muggles. His only comfort was that _Potter and Co._ had had to do the same thing. Dumbledore had been determined to keep the four of them safe until the Master Plan was in place.

"Bad Day," Draco muttered, leaving the kitchen to try and sleep.

Since returning to his world, Draco had added "improvements" to his home. A Hogwart's dorm-style bed was one of them, since no other bed had been as comfortable to Draco, even the ones at Malfoy Manor. The heavy wood and dark green velvet curtains, isolating him from the rest of the universe gave him a sense of safety that he lacked at every other time. This fact was not helping him tonight.

His room was stifling, all the windows covered by thick velvet drapes, rugs covering the floor, the walls cluttered with paintings, tapestries and memorbilia. All the things that he'd had to leave behind four years ago, and had only regained in the last few months.

Draco tossed aside all the bed cloths except the light top sheet, scrunching pillows around in an effort to get comfortable. He resisted the urge to go lay in the cool grass in his back garden and stare up at the stars some more.

"I need to sleep!" Draco said to the empty room in frustration. Only a heavy silence, thick with accusations, answered him.

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Draco walked into the office the next morning, his head held high, even though his entire body wanted to droop from fatigue. Nobody wished him good morning, and he didn't trust any of the office-made refreshments, carrying his Muggle coffee in a heat mug instead. In a moment of extreem self-pity he thought that he was turning into as much of a wreck as Mad-Eye Moody.

With the door to his office blessedly shut, it took Draco a moment to realize that he wasn't alone in the room. He clenched his jaw to keep it from dropping at the sight of Hermione Granger sitting in his office. His very small office. He flushed, feeling self-conscious about his decision for the first time. Not even Potter could make him feel like that these days. Yet here was little, brilliant, _Muggle-born_ Hermione Granger and he suddenly felt fifteen and inferior again.

"I see you received my message." He breathed a silent sigh of relief at his even, unemotional tone. She was the last person he wanted to be vulnerable to.

"Yes. I figured that the Ministry put you up to it, I've been avoiding them, you know. I have to admit, having your name as the signature _did_ make me curious, so here I am." She was looking at the blank wall over his left shoulder. He nearly smiled, at least she was uncomfortable too.

"They were hoping for that effect. I'm involved by name only though," that hurt to admit, "you need to go talk to Fudge if you want to know what this is all about." He found himself moving behind his desk and then rearranging the things on the desktop. he didn't look at her, and there was a tense silence for a few moments.

"Actually, I don't care what the Ministry wants me for. I was more curious about what they wanted you for." She settled back into the chair opposite his desk as Draco slumped down into his. He did _not_ want to talk to this woman. Not about this, not now, not ever.

"I'm here on my own merits Granger. That's all there is to it." he settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers, trying to summon the confident mask that had been his shield in school.

"Mm hmm," she nodded, then turned that piercing, absorbing gaze on him, "but why did you end up _here_ instead of where you would be allowed to do some good?"

Draco felt his chest seize up and he couldn't breathe for a few awful seconds. Hermione leaned forward, and Draco was suddenly reminded of the cat that Pansy had had in school. The thing had been an awkward animal, but vicious once it had sighted prey.

"I'm sure that Mr. Fudge is anxious to see you."

"I'm sure he is. Answer the question Malfoy." Draco closed his eyes. He felt like laughing bitterly and crying in despair at the same time. It must have shown on his face, when he opened his eyes Hermione was looking at him in shock and concern.

"I think you should leave now Granger." His voice was still level, if a little hoarse. He was proud of himself. Hermione nodded, opened her mouth as if to say something, but didn't. Instead, she stood and left his office without another word.

Draco sighed, slumping in his chair, feeling the aching wave of confused emotion wash over him, drowning him in the past few years. It passed relatively quickly and he got to work. Drowning his sorrows could wait for the evening.

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This was starting to be a bad habit, sitting in his kitchen with a mug of cocoa, stargazing through the big windows. The stars never provided any answers, but they gave him some peace. They didn't judge any more than they advised, and he was glad for that.

It had been difficult, after school. Between his growing horror with his family's activity and his inability to just go to Dumbledore and ask for help, he had gotten himself into a very dangerous situation.

He didn't know how involved Hermione had been in the battle, especially in those days. He would bet that she had been part of the think-tank though. His escape from his father and the Dark Lord smacked of her influence.

Draco had to smile at the thought of little Hermione Granger sitting in a room with Dumbledore, Fudge and the Aurors, suggesting that Harry Potter kidnap Draco Malfoy. It was almost funny, especially imagining the look on Potter's face.

Draco could only imagine though. When he had actually seen Potter's face, it had been grim and determined. Of course they had been in the middle of out-witting a full group of Death Eaters with only two brooms and a wand. Fortunately it had been Draco's wand, Potter still couldn't aim worth anything while he was flying. Unless he was aiming the broom, Draco thought bitterly.

He shook himself, pulling away from the memory and the past rivalry. He had been able to "bury the hatchet" as the saying went, he owed Potter his life, his sanity. It was a debt that he would never be able to repay, not even with his involvement in that last battle. They had won, the world was once again safe for little wizards, especially now, with all the Death Eaters finally rounded up or confirmed dead.

Draco felt tears sting his eyes, remembering being summoned to the wizarding world for the first time if four years, only to positively identify his mother's remains. Dumbledore and Potter had been there, which had been strangely comforting. Potter was the only person in the world that Draco _knew_ understood what this lost feeling was like. The tears that day had washed away what was left of their animosity, leaving only two young men in the various stages of being alone in the world.

He smiled around the memory, forcing his mind to the present again. Potter's last letter had been hopeful, they had both been given Muggle lives, in order to stay out of reach. Potter had returned to his as a way to get away from all the attention that he inevitably got as, well, Harry Potter. Draco no longer envied him that attention, and even now envied him the anonymity of the Muggle world. He would have stayed as a Muggle, if he didn't have a need to repay the world for the actions of his father.

It was going to be a long, hard road, but he was going to do it. He was going to prove that at least one Malfoy could do the right thing.

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_Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co. do not belong to me, they belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm just speculating the "Happily Ever After", and not making any money off of it._

Please review and tell me what you think. Thanks!


	2. Part Two

Aftershock -Part Two

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In the following weeks, Draco would catch glimpses of Granger, talking to someone or another. He was never party to what the Ministry wanted with her, which annoyed him. He had been taught humility by necessity, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold onto. So Draco drank his coffee every morning while going over the unimportant tidbits that kept the wizarding world running smoothy, and became more curious and bored with each passing day.

The only thing that kept him going were the letters from Potter, which arrived once a week like clockwork. Draco took comfort in the fact that he wasn't the only one who could feel his talents dissolving. Potter would have had it worse if he hadn't stayed with the Muggles though. Damage taken in the last battle had made playing Quiddich professionally an impossibility, and so Harry had become a Muggle sports writer, and enjoyed it well enough.

"Like swallowing glass." Draco quoted to himself, reading the latest news from Potterville. The description fit more situations than Potter had meant it to, the poor man was complaining about the photo editor again. Overall, Potter seemed grumpy but content, if such a thing was possible. Then the end of the letter approached.

_Hermione wrote me this week. I'm glad that you managed to get her back to England. I think that she was having entirely too much fun with those icky old vampire books at that estate dismantling in Transylvania._ Draco mentally kicked himself for not thinking of just asking Potter where she was instead of going through Gringotts. _ She says that she got to see you for a few minutes, that your office is better suited to Hogwarts with all the stuff in it, and that you didn't look well. Is everything alright D? Is the Ministry treating you well?_

The emotion hit Draco harder than he was prepared for, and he had to put the letter away. In school he had often wondered what it would have been like being a part of the family that the Trio seemed to collect around them. Draco's own school group was held together more by awe and fear of the Malfoy name than anything else. And while Potter's group usually started much the same way, it didn't take long for more compassionate emotions to take their place. 

While Potter and Draco had formed an odd sort of brotherhood in the pressure of those terrible days, the bond hadn't extended any further than the two of them. Draco had been content with that, knowing how much damage he had done to the possibilities so early on.

Now...

Now Hermione had been concerned enough to write about him to Potter. Not just in the "I know you don't hate him anymore" way, but with an actual update. And how the Hell would Granger know whether he looked well or not?

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Draco was locking his office door behind him, when Hermione startled him. "Are you free this evening? Her vioce was cheerful, and Draco wondered briefly what parallel universe he had fallen into.

"Yes, I am Granger," he replyed cautiously, "what of it?"

"Harry's in London tonight, and I was wondering if you would like to join us for dinner?" It was a tempting offer, but he was wary of the source. Hermione was the most civil person he'd ever known, but not to the point of suffering his company if she didn't have to.

"How are we planning on keeping his ardent admirers away?" Draco asked, remembering what had happened the last time Harry had been out to eat in London. 

Hermione looke uneasy, which made him more curious than nearly anything else would have. "The restaraunt that we agreed on is in Muggle London." Ah, that explained the unease. Apparently his new, more open-minded life was not a well-known development. Draco wondered if Harry hadn't told her out of embarresment. After all, Malfoy and Potter were nearly friends these days, but that wasn't common knowledge.

"I would be delighted Granger. Where and when?" 

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Harry ended up driving Draco home, which got them both a raised eyebrow from Hermione. Over the course of the evening, everyone had stayed on their best behavior, and there had only been brief patches of tension. Hermione had been a translator for Gringotts when the last battles had started, and was again now. She knew only vaguely what had happened, but had no intereset, or stomach, for the the details. Draco had been relieved when she seemed to accept that he and Potter were on good terms, and had let them talk freely, which was a luxury neither had indulged in for a while, and had woven herself easily into the conversation. Soon they were chatting like old friends, as if Weasly was at the table instead of a Malfoy, and it warmed Draco's heart, just a little.

He had caught Hermione looking at him with a strange emotion in her eyes, as if he were a logic puzzle, every so often. Soon he was trying to out-stare her, as if they were in potions class again, and he had been certain that only one of them would get into trouble. It didn't work out that way, but soon he could see impending giggles in her eyes instead of puzzlement, and that just made it more fun. He had felt the weight of the last few years lift from him briefly, and it had been wonderful.

Harry had kept the conversation light, being better at idle chit-chat than either of the other workaholics at the table, and the evening had been more or less pleasant, right up to bidding Hermione good-night as the two men got into Harry's tiny orange car. Somehow, Draco had _known_ that Harry would have an orange car. He was sure that the only reason that Harry didn't have a Cannons bumpersticker was that the ministry would have confiscated it.

Now they travled in comfortable silence, each concerned with his own thoughts. That was the nice thing about traveling like a Muggle, Draco thought, the leisurely pace of car and train travle was that one had time to think, and ponder while they got from one place to another.

All too soon, Harry had pulled into the driveway and they sat, looking at Draco's very dark and lonely house. Draco didn't want to go into the solitude, and Harry was just watching him patiently. So he made an offer that would have given his father a stroke:

"Would you like to come in for a nightcap?"

"Sure D." And they walked into the chill house, dispelling some of the lingering melancholy. 

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How're you guys liking it so far? Review and tell me please, either here at ff.net or at banshi@gundamwing.org


	3. Part Three

_Notes: Sorry that this took so long, and is so short, but Draco and Hermione are just not cooperating. Maybe they'll be a little nicer to me for the next parts. Until then, enjoy this bit and share your thoughts, either by reviewing or sending me a note at fate@unseelie.zzn.com_

Thanks!

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_Aftershock: Part 3_

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"So, what do you guys have to talk about?" Hermione was standing in the doorway to Draco's office the next morning, a small smile on her face. Draco shook his head and continued putting his desk in order for the day. He and Harry had talked until the wee hours of the morning, mostly about life in their respective worlds, and how much they wished for the uncomplicated-but-terrifying life they had lead before. It had been so much simpler hiding from Voldemort than it was putting their lives back together in a peaceful world. It was an irony that both appreciated, just as their status during the war had been a bonding force.

"You know, guy stuff." Draco smiled, trying to guess what the phrase meant to her. Quiddich probably. It was strange, they had been bitter enemies during school, and in some ways they were closer than brothers now. In others, they were still strangers. Draco's expression darkened. There were still some things that he wasn't willing to share, that Famous Harry Potter just wouldn't understand.

Hermione was next to him before he saw her move, he must have spaced out. Her hand was on his shoulder, and he could smell the subtle flower perfume and old paper smell of her. It reminded him of the library at Hogwarts in the spring, and that made him smile.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yes. Just memories. I was thinking that there are some things about Famous Harry Potter that I wouldn't understand either." He smiled, a little sadly up at her, and she gave him a puzzled look in return. Then she stepped back from him, and took a seat in the chair on the other side of his desk. With a flick of her wand she closed the door, and made herself comfortable. Draco had a sinking feeling in his stomach, just knowing that this was going to be a serious conversation.

"So... how _did_ you two end up burying the hatchet?"

_In Voldemort's back, actually._ Draco thought to himself, and the mental image was pleasing. The actual event had been so much more difficult, bloody and painful than that.

"We plotted the assassination of the Death Eaters together... after what happened at my initiation..." Draco trailed off, knowing that Hermione would understand. He had flown all the way to Hogsmead that night, with Potter at his side fending off the Death Eaters. Harry had also been there when Draco told Dumbledor what had happened, and the rage in those green eyes had been real, and for _Draco_. It had been a balm to his soul, Draco thought, that an enemy had felt empathy with his situation. And after all the teasing that he'd put Potter through...

"Potter forgave me, I tried to make it up to him anyway, and together we got our vengence. Nothing like a spot of violence to induce male bonding." Draco drawled, looking into Hermione's eyes. They were wide and sympathetic, and then they sparked just before she chuckled at his quip. She had a warm chuckle, funny how he'd never appreciated that while he was evesdropping during school. It was so much more fun spying when your targets were pleasant to listen to.

"Well, if Harry can do it, so can I. Though violence may not be a good idea at this point." She was still smiling at him, and Draco smiled back hesitantly. Hermione, forgiving him? He supposed that she wouldn't have bothered with him if she hadn't, but...

"It's unexpected." Draco paused, trying to convey his gratitude at such an event. "Thank you," he ended, lame but sincere.

"You're welcome Draco. I'll see you after work?" She paused just before opening the door.

"Yes. I believe that I owe you an obsene amount of ice cream after this week."

"Yes you do... though I think ice cream will cover the years at Hogwarts too." He must have paled because she laughed, an open and happy sound. "Just for future reference." she called, walking into the busy hallway and shutting the door behind her.

Draco leaned back in his chair and smiled at the empty room. Him, joking with Hermione Granger... it had been a most interesting couple of days. He hoped that it was the kind of interesting that lasted.

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Draco woke with a languid smile on his face, and noticed that it was still early. He could still smell the flowers and old paper smell of her, and reached across the bed to run his fingers through her unruly hair.

His bed was empty except for himself. He staired up at the ceiling, trying to deny what his fingers had told him. He wasn't alone after a _very_ satisfying dream about Hermione, she just happened to be ... elsewhere.

_Her own bed, you pathetic fool._

Draco's mind was ever helpful, and he closed his eyes, swallowing around the sudden, painful lump in his throat. After all, it was _Hermione Granger_, why would she even be in his subconscious bed, let alone the real thing. He flung an arm over his eyes and tried to block out his own thoughts, even as the dream-memories faded.

For a few moments he had known what it was like to hold a loved-one close, and been able to inhale the sweet and musty scent of the only woman to smile at him in months. That wasn't it though. He had been dreaming about her at school too, more often about publicly humilitaing her to be sure, but occasionally something a little more hormone driven.

This hadn't been one of those either, but closer. He had dreamt that they were in love, making love and sleeping safely in each others arms. The ache in his chest was nearly enough to make him cry, so he got up for some cocoa. He left the empty bed behind him, trying not to look at it.

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_To Be Continued_

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_Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co. do not belong to me, they belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm just speculating the "Happily Ever After", and not making any money off of it._


	4. Part Four

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Part Four

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Draco padded around his house until he felt able to go back to sleep. He didn't want to lie down only to feel the weight of Hermione's absence. _This is so stupid!_ He raged at himself, _How can you miss her when she's never even been here in the first place?_ He stormed into his back yard to look at the stars, a last ditch effort to calm down.

It didn't help. In this hour, where he seemed to be alone in the universe, Draco had to admit that something had catalyzed in him when Hermione said that she'd forgiven him. It had been waiting there, for just the right expression to cross her face. Now that it had, the feelings welled up in him, and he couldn't push them back anymore.

For so long he had hated Potter, Weasly and Granger. It had been the staple food of his emotional diet, the loathing that he held for everything they were and did. Now though... 

Potter was his best friend. And Hermione...

Draco knew that he had always felt more strongly than he should where Hermione was concerned. The hate he had harbored for her, the knife of loathing that he had sharpened on her every word, look and gesture, had stemmed from something else. First it had been jealousy, that she was Potter's friend while Draco himself had been rebuffed. Angry that she somehow met Potter's standards while he didn't. Then it had been because she became such a central figure in his life. Just by being there, she had managed to be one third of all of his thoughts. Then it was more like one half as it became apparent that, if Draco managed to remove Granger from the trio, Potter and Weasly wouldn't have gotten away with so much.

When the hate a become driven because it was the closest thing to sheer scope of emotion that he felt every time he looked at her, Draco didn't know. He just knew that there was only one other emotion that was as powerful as hate, and she was a Mudblood which made it impossible.

_Can't even think the word,_ Draco thought bitterly, _Daddy trained me too well._

He stormed back into the house, knowing that sleep would not be possible again tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione didn't know what had happened in the last twenty-four hours, but Draco was in a foul mood. She nearly breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of an expression she was familiar with him having on his face. She wisely didn't try to say 'hello' until he seemed to calm down. She didn't understand though. He had been graciousness itself as they bought ice-cream together after work. He had spoken to her like she was a human being. It had been such a vast improvement over his past behavior that she really wasn't surprised to see the other shoe drop. She smiled sadly as his office door shut with a bang, and walked to her own temporary location down the hall.

Sitting at her desk, she pulled out the yearbook from their seventh year. It traveled everywhere with her, for those moments when she really needed to see a friendly face. This was not one of those times. She opened to book and quickly located Draco Malfoy's knowing smirk as he looked up at her from the page.

"Insufferable git." She said to the picture, and smiled as he just raised a mocking eyebrow at her. This was the Draco that she knew how to deal with, not the confusing creature down the hall, and in her thoughts.

Yesterday, she had gotten close enough to notice that he didn't bother with cologne anymore. It startled her, mostly because he used to not leave the Slytherin dorms unless he was soaked in the stuff... always expensive of course. Now, she had been unconsciously waiting for that whiff of wealth that always seemed to follow him, and it hadn't been there. Just Draco and laundry soap.

She had just about told him what an improvement that was, when she realized what it would imply. They had eaten their ice-cream, and talked about every unimportant thing they could think of. She had seen him smile at the story of her trip on a camel caravan in Egypt. His smile was beautiful and painfully human, unlike the sneer she was used to. It made her wonder about the Draco from school. Had that really been him? Or just the puppet that Voldemort wanted?

She didn't know, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, the nightmares came. Draco knew that he was dreaming, but couldn't seem to pull himself awake. The deadly fascination had carried into the dreams.

His initiation.

He had never seen the Death Eaters before. He had only listened to the stories his father told him, had soaked up every word of them for as long as he could remember. This is not how he had pictured those tales of unlimited power.

Power. How he wanted it! To be powerful, to crush those that stood against him. To be better than Potter and his muggle-loving ways. His body screamed for power, in a way that no desire had ever gripped him before. Sex, money, adoration. They were nothing compared to this _need_ burning in his veins. And at seventeen, he had tasted all he cared to of those lesser pleasures.

The Dark Lord stood before him, promising to give him all that he asked for. Draco's skin tingled with the promise, he was ready to give anything in order to taste the power. That scaly, dead hand reached for his arm, and Draco felt the build start within him. That moment when, if he had been with a woman, he would have taken her harder, reaching for climax. This was different, and Draco felt that it would be better than even the best one-night stand imaginable.

As Draco's eyes slit, and the pleasure built, he saw his father out of the corner of his eye. Lucious Malfoy was on his knees, bent in worship behind the Dark Lord. Totally prostrate, his nose to the dirt. Lucious Malfoy, who had told him of the Dark Lord's promises, and rewards. Lucious Malfoy who claimed to have been given this unlimited power that he spoke of. Lucious Malfoy, who didn't dare look up until the Dark Lord said so.

The pleasure died, and Draco sprinted away, catching even the powerful Lord Voldemort completely off-guard. The Death Eaters howled at him to stop, and he dodged curses as he ran. Turning a corner into the thicker forest, he dared to look back. Lucious Malfoy was still kneeling, his nose to the dirt.

~*~

Draco woke with a gasp, feeling like he had been drowning. It wasn't an uncommon reaction to that dream, but he had grown to hate the choking, breathless feeling. He sprawled, boneless across his bed, breathing deeply, as his heart slowed and his mind calmed.

_Perfect ending to a perfect day._ He closed his eyes in defeat.


	5. Part Five and Thanks

Yay! They're cooperating now, and I actually got another, longer chapter done. I hope you enjoy the story, and the thanks-for-comments section at the end!

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Aftershock

Part 5

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When Hermione saw Draco walk in the next morning, it became obvious what the problem was. The man looked like he hadn't slept and this made two days in a row. Something was eating at him. Her worried gaze followed him until his office door closed, softly and slowly, behind him. A frown creased her brow.

What was going on?

Deep in thought, Hermione set about her own work, back at her desk. The reports didn't require much of her attention, so she was free to ponder the question of Draco Malfoy. It was darkly amusing when the realization struck her that this was how she had spent the majority of her years at Hogwarts. Giving the busywork a fraction of her attention while pondering a problem that her teachers wouldn't approve of... like Polyjuice potion and how to get a dragon away from Hogwarts. How often those extra projects had involved Draco in some way, even just having to think up a way to avoid him finding out about it. Hermione smirked to herself.

She paused in her thoughts, running through what she knew about him, and the way he acted. His attitude at Hogwarts couldn't have been an act. It had been too perfect to be an act, too consistent. She filled out the last report, the beginnings of a headache blossoming above her right eye, and decided to get it at the source.

Besides, if she'd forgiven Draco, she had a right to know why he had become worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco was dozing in his chair when a knock on the door startled him awake. He had finished the artifact identification for the day, and had started the reports (in-triplicate) and that was the last he remembered. A quick look around revealed that he had not drooled and the desk still looked presentable.

"Come in."

He bit back a groan as Hermione opened the door with a smile, two mugs levitating beside her. _Should have known. Nobody else bothers with me._ The thought was both bitter and relieved.

"I wanted some hot chocolate, and you looked like you could use some cheering up this morning." She smiled uncertainly, and Draco took a moment to admire the slight blush that it brought to her skin, and the twinkle in her eyes. He fought not to sigh, and smiled back.

"Had a bad night. Have a seat." He waived to the chair in front of his desk, standing to retrieve the mug floating towards him. Taking a sip, he realized that it was muggle hot chocolate, from the little packets, and couldn't stop the wide smile from crossing his face. He should have known that she would have that particularly muggle treat. Looking back at her, he saw the uneasiness in her eyes, the slight dimming of her expression. Licking his lips nervously, Draco sat back down, trying to figure out what to say to make her realize that his past prejudices were just that...past.

"This is a coincidence. I usually make myself cocoa, but there wasn't any time this morning." He tried for a reassuring smile, and it was returned. He also caught the look of startled curiosity, and got the sinking feeling that he was Hermione's latest project. He cleared his throat nervously. "The packets with the little marshmallows are my favorite."

"But...!" She look startled, and then tried to hide it. Draco even saw her bite her bottom lip just as she lifted her own mug to mask the action.

"Hermione," he leaned forward, over his desk to look her in the eye, "I lived as a muggle for four years, just like you, Weasly and Potter did. It forced me to realize what that world was really like instead of my skewed view of it." Her eyes were so beautiful, glinting the way they did as she absorbed the information. It took more self-control than it should have for Draco to lean back into his chair and away from her. This was _not_ a good moment for getting lost in just looking at her. She may be alright with the new-and-improved Draco, but Smitten-Draco would be something else entirely. 

"That makes sense." She looked into her mug, thinking. He continued to sip his, taking the moment to watch her slender fingers hold the ceramic. The first finger of her left hand was tapping slightly on the handle. He saw the smudges of ink on the ring finger of her right hand, where he supposed her quill rested as she wrote. She shifted and he caught the fainter smudge on the pad of her right middle finger, and had to choke back a laugh.

"What's so funny?" The question wasn't angry, but could easily turn that way depending on his answer.

"I just noticed that the Ministry must have you doing an insane amount of reading or research. The ink from the pages is starting to stain." Sure enough, she looked at her right hand, and the smudge on her finger.

"Oh, that's not from this assignment, that's been there for yea..." she stopped, realizing what she was saying, and blushed. Draco couldn't choke it back this time, and did laugh. It felt good. Then another sound joined in, and he realized that Hermione was laughing too. It was such a trivial thing, the ink smudges on her hands, but it was so funny.

They calmed down and an uneasy expression crossed Hermione's face. Draco braced for whatever question had come to her mind. He was sure that he wasn't going to like answering it.

"Draco... is living in the muggle world why you have changed so much since school?" The question was soft, he almost didn't hear it. He took some courage from the fact that Hermione was as uncomfortable asking the question as he was hearing it.

"Not entirely. " He paused, trying to explain it to her in a way that wouldn't make her leave. He didn't want her to leave. He looked back into her eyes, trying to borrow some of that famous Gryffindor courage. It helped a little. "I've changed because I found out that my Father had been misleading me. I was a good little Dark Wizard during school, I did everything that he expected of me, and I enjoyed it." The hurt nearly shouted from her brown eyes, causing his throat to constrict. He continued, just to try and erase that look. "When it came time for Voldemort to keep his end of the bargain and give me a world's worth of power, the promises my father had made crumbled. Voldemort was the only one who would get that power, no matter what my father seemed to have." Disgust was replacing hurt on Hermione's face, and Draco had to look away. He couldn't believe the shame that slammed into him. He had thought he was done with that emotion, had wished that he was done with it.

"I ran away from my own initiation, because I saw my all-powerful father, the great Lucious Malfoy bowing to the ground and groveling in front of Voldemort. I wasn't going to do that, I bow to no-one." The anger and pride still came to him at the thought. "Potter was waiting in the woods, watching, I'm sure, for an opening to come snatch me out of evil's grip. I nearly ran into him, but got a broomstick to the gut instead." He smiled a little, Potter had not been happy about having to save him. "We flew away, Potter taking the lead, and presenting better bait than I ever would have, and me casting every curse and hex I knew over my shoulder." It was ironic that he'd learned most of them because he was planning on using them against Potter, but he didn't say that to Hermione. He didn't think that she'd find it as funny as he did.

"After we were safe, Potter and I got into a fight. Actually, we had that fight that had been building since that first day at Hogwarts. We beat each other into the ground as the sun rose and the adults came to find us." Hermione's eyes widened, she obviously remembered Potter's hospital stay while the bruises, cuts and scrapes healed. "I don't think I could move anything normally for weeks, but after that Potter and I came to an understanding. Seeing that neither of us was exactly evil, and we both needed to hide from the Death Eaters, we started working together, putting our considerable experience in the matter to good use."

"You." Hermione gasped, "You lead us to all of those meeting places and artifact caches." Draco drank in the sight of surprise overcoming the anger and disgust on her face. He wondered if he'd make it through the explanation with her still speaking to him.

"Yes, that was me. I put my eavesdropping skill to use at home as well as Hogwarts." He smiled slyly and was rewarded when she laughed. "Potter and I made a good team, and became friends because we worked so well together. It was impossible to keep the animosity when our lives depended on each other. It made me realize what the three of you had had during school. How much I had missed out on because I was waiting for this promise of unequaled power." He couldn't read the expression on her face now, but it didn't matter. She was the first person besides Potter that he's told any of this to, and Potter wasn't the mushy emotional sort, so Draco's own feelings on the matter had remained his own.

"Do you miss it? All that influence you had because of your father?" The question was blunt, but her face was kind. Draco felt his heart contract again, knowing that, if he didn't feel _that_ for her, then it was damn close.

"Sometimes, though that's mostly because it's the other extreme now. Nobody does anything for me anymore, even the basics. It makes life difficult, but I'm managing alright. Keeping a part of my muggle life helps. At least there nobody alters their behavior because of my name." He paused, thinking about why he was alright with the way things were. Why he had helped Potter instead of trying to grab the power for himself, a rival to Voldemort. "Potter showed me that some things were just as good, if not better than the power that I wanted."

"What things?" Her eyes were glinting again, and it made Draco smile. That expression was his favorite, with her eyes alight and her expression so focused.

"Once, we were trying to evacuate a muggle orphanage. Potter was having a hard time with the directors, and an Auror had to step in. The Auror didn't look anything like the police officer he was trying to mimic, and the whole thing was turning into a mess. Then one of the kids comes up to me, she must have been five or six, and hands me this dragon plushy. It was blue. And she asks me if we can save Edger too. The kids could understand what we were saying, even if the adults couldn't, and they were scared. 

"We ended up fighting off the Death Eaters, keeping them away from the orphanage, still full of people. It was tough, but we did it. A week later, I got a letter, through someone doing clean up. That little girl had drawn me a thank-you card, with Edger on it." Draco paused, trying to put the joy, relief and warmth he had felt into words. "Potter showed me the joy of saving lives. And it was better than the power, and it was enough to keep me fighting. It still is."

Draco's throat was raw with emotion, his hot chocolate gone, and Hermione sitting opposite him with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. He leaned away from her as the almost over-powering impulse to hold her washed over him. The separation from her was nearly painful, the amount of control needed to deny the impulse making it more so.

"They were both the real you." Her voice was thick with emotion, and she was smiling. She was beautiful. He stared at her, deciding if he really wanted to know what that statement meant. Hermione stood up while he was staring at her, levitating both mugs again. She paused at the door, as his heart sank, thinking she was running away.

"Thank you for telling me. I know that you didn't have to." She waved her hands in the air, seeming to search for words. "I'm going to go collect myself... you don't need an emotional female messing up you work. ...I'll see you later... Draco." The words came out in a broken up rush, and she was gone before he could respond. It left him hovering on the edge of both intense joy and despair. He couldn't tell if she'd meant that she'd see him, or if she couldn't stand to be in his presence after finding out that he really had been a monster.

He leaned his forehead on his desk with a thump. The reports suddenly looked very good, their mind-numbing properties very welcome at the moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione dumped the mugs on her desk and bolted for the ladies room. She was causing a minor scene, but she didn't care. Locking the bathroom door, she slumped against the wall, tears streaming down her face.

She didn't know which of the jumbled emotions she should be feeling. The Draco in his office was so much at odds with the Draco she remembered, that she wasn't sure what to do with the information she had just gotten. 

The look on his face when he talked about the little girl and her thank-you card... Hermione had been swept away by the joy and peace on his pale face. Even if his words didn't convey how important that experience had been, his face had. He had been breathtaking, beautiful, and Hermione wasn't sure what she felt about that.

He was so good now. Understanding and warm, he even liked muggle things, had kept aspects of his enforced muggle life. So different from the Draco she remembered. And so similar to the Draco she had wished for in school.

She remembered how, in a fit of frustration and anger, she had imagined the perfect Draco Malfoy. A boy who would help in their schemes instead of hinder, who would work in potions, was kind, generous, and a friend. School would have been so much more enjoyable with this imaginary Draco instead of the real one. 

She had kept imaginary Draco close to her heart, and by seventh year had dreamed up a whole life with him, her perfect companion. It had hurt to look at the real man, so different from the one in her mind, and so beautiful. Her dreams had alternated between the happiness of life with imaginary Draco, and the nightmares of real Draco handing her over to Voldemort because she was muggle-born. There had been mornings when she woke up with the taste of him on her lips, had reached for him in the bed next to her to whisper Good Morning, and a piece of her had died when she realized that he wasn't there, and never would be. _Her_ Draco didn't exist. And there had been mornings when she'd woken up tasting her own blood, his beautiful face laughing as he tortured her the only thing she could see. Those mornings it had been everything she could do just to sit and eat breakfast without it coming back up every time she saw him.

And today he had told her that there was no imaginary-Draco and real-Draco, that they were both real. And the man she had been dreaming about was the one sitting in that office everyday, so close. Hermione felt the sobs start in her chest, painful as they welled up her throat. There he was, and she didn't know if she could deal with it, knowing that the dream and the nightmare were tied together, the same person.

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End Part Five

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****

Many Thanks

_jessiCA, Medrelina the Weird, kxs, and stephanie:_ I'm so glad that you're all liking this. I promise to get the rest out a quickly as possible ^_~

_Seeress:_ I always like hearing from you. I tried to make Draco less of a caricature, and this is what happened. Hope you keep enjoying the story.

_rori:_ That's hefty praise, and I'm afraid you made me blush. I like getting into characters heads, to find out what makes them tick. My interpritation is usually a little off center, and I'm glad that you approve of this one.

_Everyone:_ Keep reading and commenting. My ego appreciates it ^_^

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co. do not belong to me, they belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm just speculating the "Happily Ever After", and not making any money off of it._


	6. Part Six

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It's amazing what the will to avoid my homework can do for my writing. Behold, I have produced a long chapter! Enjoy!

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Aftershock

Part Six

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Draco began the next day by kicking himself. Hermione was avoiding him, though she was being very polite about it. She still spoke to him in the corridors, but there wasn't another impromptu visit that day, and her eyes kept darting away from him, as if she couldn't look at him for very long. He had scared her off by revealing what a monster he was, had been, and now would forever be in her eyes. He would probably never get close enough to smell her perfume again.

On the second day, Draco walked into his office, read through his tasks for the day and swore. Damning himself, and cursing his poor judgment, Draco stormed back out of the office. He had a reporter to track down, her use of a questionable artifact having "suddenly" caught his attention. In truth, he'd be glad to have someone to get angry at. He needed to vent his emotions, and yelling at Hermione was _not_ and option.

As he strode past her desk, he gave Hermione a short passing glance. She had her hair pulled back today, exposing a slender neck and the concentrated furrow of her brow. He nearly sighed, from admiration and frustration in equal measure. "Have a good day Hermione." It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, so he sped his departure, hoping that she hadn't heard.

He was passed, and nearly to the door when he caught her looking at him from the corner of his eye. Her face was holding an expression that he didn't recognize, and he didn't have the time to analyze it. He was out the door with a shrug, trying to get his mind back to business.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione didn't know what to make of her own behavior. She hadn't decided to avoid him, but every time she thought about walking back into his office, just to chat again, something inside her cringed. She was so terrified of giving her emotions away. She had never been very good at hiding them, and he had always been a keen observer, picking up the slightest hint of weakness. She was suddenly afraid that, once he had discovered a weakness in her, the old, mean, snotty Draco would come back. And she really couldn't look him in the eye until she stopped think of him as if he had split personalities. It was confusing, and she didn't want to deal with it.

The second day she justified the avoidance by telling herself that she had too much work to do. Socializing with Draco could wait until her reports were finished. The project was important, and her specialty in magically enhanced tomes was invaluable to it success. She really should be concentrating on the reproduction of the 6th century manuscript containing an account of Arabian Wizards as written by a rare Wizarding Crusader that was currently sitting on her desk. Instead she was doodling on her parchment as she tried to figure out what a Wizard would be doing with Muggle Crusaders. Looking at the account, she supposed that it had been curiosity, and the great fun of putting memory charms on them after significant battles. She would have to consult her father's old history text from his school days to figure out just how much damage this one Wizard had ended up doing to Muggle history...

"Have a good day Hermione." His voice was soft, and the surprise of hearing it sent a thrill down her spine. By the time she looked up, he was already down the hall, obviously leaving. She took a moment to appreciate his grace, that oft-emphasized upper-class quality in his movements. All the uncertainty from his revelations came crashing back on her, and she didn't know whether to reply, run after him like some silly heroine, or quickly look back down at her desk before he caught her staring. His exit saved her from the decision, and left her feeling bereft.

Hermione sighed, mentally shook herself, and got back to the idiot who ensured that she'd never know who had actually won any of the battles around Jerusalem.

~*~

Hermione had gotten a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the duration of her project, and she missed home terribly. Her flat wasn't much, but it was in Oxford, and she loved the city. The Muggle University was an amazing place, even when she knew so many things that the students there never would. She enjoyed the atmosphere of learning and party that coexisted in nearly every building. Sitting on her rented bed, listening to the faint sounds from downstairs, she suddenly felt terribly homesick.

She was too far away to get to Oxford and back comfortably, even if she hadn't rented the place to Ginny for the month. She had deemed that staying near the Ministry would be easiest, and hadn't expected to miss her flat quite so much. Though, if she was being honest, she had to acknowledge that she hadn't seen her flat in quite a while, which is why she rented it out at all. She trusted Ginny to take care of it, and then it wouldn't feel so abandoned when she finally did make it back.

Hermione stood up, and paced her room restlessly. Wanderlust had gotten hold of her, and she wasn't sure what to do about it. Usually she could just request another project abroad from her supervisor at Gringotts, but she wasn't finished with her project at the Ministry yet. What an inconvenient time for the bug to bite!

She shuffled through the papers on her desk randomly, trying to think of something to do to get rid of this urge. Her eyes lit on the atrocious handwriting that meant Harry Potter had been in a hurry. The note had been scribbled at the end of one of his (more legible) letters, and at the time she hadn't known what to make of it. Now she understood why Harry had asked her to keep an eye on Draco, to see if he was happy in his new situation. There had also been an address at the bottom of the page.

She had Draco Malfoy's home address.

Without thinking it through, knowing that she'd talk herself out of it easily, Hermione changed into Muggle clothing, and dashed out of the Leaky Cauldron and into Muggle London. Once she was in the taxi, she knew that she couldn't change her mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco nearly spilled his cocoa all over himself when someone rang his doorbell. The whole time he had been living here, the blasted thing had never been used. Until that moment, avoiding scalding liquid, he hadn't even been sure that it worked. He set the cocoa down on the table, and walked wearily to the door. What if it was one of his neighbors suddenly trying to be "friendly." He shuddered, having made the mistake of buying a house next to a woman that Harry had described as "Aunt Petunia –lite." As if she were a bag of cookies or something!

Opening the door, fully prepared to make whoever it was go away and mind their own business, he chocked on his breath as he saw Hermione's slightly apologetic and very nervous face. His mind froze, and years of ingrained good manners came to his rescue. His mother had taught him something useful after all. Even if she wouldn't approve of who he was being polite to.

"Hermione... please come in."

"Thank you. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time." She chewed her lower lip briefly, then seemed to realize that she was doing it, and stopped. _Pity._ Draco shook the thought away.

"No, your not. I was just indulging my sweet tooth." He lead her to the kitchen, checking his own perceptions to see if he was hallucinating. No, even the water ring on the hall table where he had put a water glass down in his first week as a Muggle was still there.

_Hermione Granger is in my house!_ The thought was awed and terrified and utterly childish. Draco barely recognized it as one of his own. Once in the kitchen, he noticed that he had left all the lights out, and hurriedly turned them on.

"Would you like some hot chocolate?" He was already reaching for another mug as he saw her smile. It made his stomach tighten and he felt an answering smile tugging at his own lips.

"Yes please." She sat down opposite his accustomed chair. Draco's smile widened, and he noticed that hers hadn't faded as she looked around. When she spoke again, it was almost to herself, "Cocoa seems to be our indulgence of choice."

"It is a pleasant drink, and you don't have a nasty headache the next morning. What's not to love?" He tried to make his tone light, but just that _word_, spoken in a room where Hermione was present, made his throat go tight. He set the cocoa in front of her and wiped his own with a damp cloth to get it clean before sitting down across from her.

There was silence as they sipped and stared out his big kitchen windows, though there wasn't much to see with their reflections in the way. Draco too the opportunity to look at her, noticing the slight twitchiness to her, as if it were difficult to sit still. It was so unlike the bookish woman he had thought her to be: able to sit reading for hours on end. He decided to brave conversation.

"So, what brings you here?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione looked around Draco's Muggle house, and found it absolutely charming, if a little sterile. Still, it wasn't like he had been able to put up paintings of his favorite wizards, or ancestors, on the walls for the last few years. Maybe he just hadn't gotten around to it yet. The house was spacious, and she felt a little of the antsy-ness fade from her, also noting that it wasn't in the least bit drafty or dank, like the older Wizard houses.

_Perfect for a library_ The thought came unbidden, and the whole train came skidding to halt at it. What was she doing? She couldn't just go through Draco Malfoy's house and categorize it as if she were looking to buy it. By all accounts he was happy living here. She'd never know if her books would benefit from the conditions in his living room. Though they _were_ perfect, she mused.

_Snap out of it Hermione!_ She gave herself a mental shake and followed him into the kitchen. Where it was dark. She was startled for a moment, then her attention was drawn to the large windows opposite the doorway. Moving a little closer, she noticed a good view of the night sky through them, and then Draco hit the light switch.

The thought of chocolate immediately helped her nerves as she sat down. His kitchen looked like he actually used it, which amazed her. It wasn't cluttered, but had all the important things, like pots, pans and various sizes of wooden spoon. She smiled a little sadly when he handed her the cocoa. _It looks more lived in than mine._ Somehow this wasn't what she had expected from a comparison of their lives. Draco Malfoy settled somewhere and living comfortably without having something to do with the balance of world power. And her, she hadn't expected to be a woman who lived alone when she did get to see home, which wasn't often, and purely about business when she was abroad. Despite many people having shown an interest, her only friends were still the ones she'd made at Hogwarts, and her romances had failed when the man realized that she wasn't going to drop everything and play "house".

"So, what brings you here?" Draco's voice stopped that bitter train of thought, and she was grateful. Some things weren't worth dwelling on.

"To be honest, I got homesick. Harry gave me your address, and I wanted to see a friendly face." It was nearly honest, and she was proud that her voice hadn't squeaked or otherwise embarrassed her. The surprise on his face was worth any embarrassment though, especially when he gave her a wide, pleased smile. It was an honest expression, and she knew that she was one of a very few people to ever see it.

"What do you miss from home?" He looked at her, genuine curiosity in his gray eyes.

She thought about it, trying to pin down that feeling among the hoard of others that just being around him evoked. "Nothing specific. It's more the idea of home. I miss being somewhere that feels familiar, that doesn't require that I eat out for every meal, or have a map to get around. Although that last one isn't a problem here." She smiled, though her answer didn't quite satisfy her. There was also the feeling of homesickness that she got while she _was_ home. The feeling that something was missing. Sometimes she wondered how, even with her work, and her friends, she had ended up lonely.

"You sound like I did, last year." His voice was wistful, and she had to listen carefully to catch the last bit. It didn't seem like he was going to continue, for a moment. Then: "Before I was allowed back, I felt like I was trapped, no matter where I was, or how much control I had over my situation. It wasn't enough. Though I still feel trapped some days, it's not so much anymore." He paused again, then laughed bitterly. "What's really funny is that I may not _feel_ as trapped any more, but I'm more trapped than I was, not being able to travel anywhere without the Ministry's permission. I'm a Malfoy after all." His face contorted, and if he'd eaten something rotten, and he wouldn't look at her.

Hermione felt something in her twist. She had known that the Ministry wouldn't trust anyone from a family that had been confirmed collaborators with Voldemort, but she had thought it was what they deserved. Listening to Draco, she felt ashamed of herself. The Ministry wouldn't give him permission to go anywhere for at least another two years.

_If I go home, I won't get to see him._ The thought came to her in a mix of panic and sorrow. She wasn't sure what to do with it, but knew that she couldn't just shove it away.

"You may be a Malfoy, but your _Draco_ Malfoy. Someday the Ministry will realize that not every human weakness is hereditary. If that were the case, than a Muggle-born like me wouldn't have made it into Hogwarts, and the whole issue would have been moot."

For just a second, she saw something in his eyes as he looked at her. She couldn't identify it, but it made her realize that he must have only one or two people he could talk to. That were willing to look past the name and reputation. He may have been a pain in the ass during school, but she and Harry had gotten to know Draco as a person rather than an extension of his father. She hadn't thought about what a difference that made in her perception of the beautiful man sitting across from her.

And hadn't she promised not to let her mind wander in that direction?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco was amazed at himself. Opening up like that to Hermione was just asking to get kicked in the teeth. What had possessed him to tell her about the claustrophobia-like feeling he got every time he had thought about his enforced Muggle existence. He had been denied magic, denied spells, but had been allowed to travel the globe, should the whim take him. Now he had magic back, but couldn't leave London without permission. They probably wouldn't let him anywhere near Hogwarts for decades.

And then Hermione had to go and equate being evil to getting magic from Muggle parents. If she could be a Muggle-born Witch, then apparently he could be a _righteous_ Malfoy. And why was she here talking to him anyway. From the way she had been behaving, he had thought he'd scared her away with his revelations about why he'd turned on Voldemort. If he was being honest with himself, which wasn't often, he had to admit that his reasons for turning scared him too.

It was just so difficult to remember that there were still things that he couldn't tell her, especially when she was looking at him as if she had forgotten that the rest of the world existed. It was probably just the expression she got when she was focusing, but it was still elating. That she would give some of her time to him.

"The Ministry has too many things to worry about before they can get to the problem of Wizards Who Don't Warrant Azkaban, But Aren't To Be Trusted Either." She giggled at the title, and he had to smile. The whole thing was just so bureaucratic, and it had always been like that.

"Were you looking at the stars?" The question came out of the blue, taking him by surprise. He looked out his kitchen window, noting their reflections in the glass.

"Yes. No matter where I am, they're always there." His voice sounded throaty, even to him. He always got emotional and protective about his quirks.

"That's the great thing about them. Even if I'm on the other side of the world, I can still find the stars. It's comforting when I'm traveling."

Debating with himself, Draco reached for his wand, and pointed it at the light switch. Hermione nodded, and he flipped it to "off." The kitchen was very dark for a moment, but as his eyes adjusted, the view he had been admiring before returned. The stars were beautiful tonight, the sky clear and endlessly black. He heard Hermione sigh and lean back in her chair. He could just make out her profile, and she looked content, which was better than bored.

He looked back out at the stars, letting his mind wander, relaxing for the first time in years.

_How could I not love her?_ The thought came and went without Draco really realizing what he had admitted to himself, being too busy soaking up the first true peace he'd known since Hogwarts. All he knew was that he had never felt so content in his life.

Of course it ended too soon, and Hermione was moving slowly through the kitchen, cleaning her mug, and collecting her jacket as Draco drifted out of his reverie. Instead of turning on the bright electric lights, he used his wand.

"_Lumios_." Hermione looked at him, startled. Their gazes met and held, and understanding passing between them that neither could have explained if they tried. The Draco turned away, to put his own mug in the sink. "Do you have a way back to where you're staying?"

"No, I need to call a cab." He looked at her questioningly. She shifted nervously, then: "I don't like flu powder."

He nodded, understanding the reluctance, and handed her the handset to his telephone and the little list of numbers that he'd depended on in his Muggle life. She smiled in thanks, and quickly went about getting herself transportation. Draco cursed his lack of foresight in not getting a driver's license, like Potter had, if only because then he'd have an excuse to spend more time with Hermione. Couldn't do anything about it now though.

"They'll be here in ten minutes." She set the phone and number list down on the counter, and turned to look at him. The room was still dim, in what would have been romantic lighting if he wasn't telling himself not to think like that. Hermione's eyes were dark and glittered slightly. She really was beautiful, Draco once again had to force himself to remain silent.

"Good. I hope I helped with the homesickness."

"You did. Thank you." They weren't looking at each other any more, and Draco no longer had an excuse to not turn on the overhead lights. So he did, and the sudden brightness felt as if it were washing away whatever intimacy had been in the moment. He felt grief, all the while telling himself to snap out of it.

The doorbell rang again, and Hermione turned to leave. He wasn't sure if he should walk her to the door or not, so he followed her slowly into the main hallway. 

"Have a good night." He said softly as her hand reached for the doorknob. She paused, then turned and walked back towards him, and odd and determined look on her face. For a second, he thought she was going to hit him, and tried desperately to think of what he'd done.

She stopped right in front of him, and suddenly leaned up and kissed his cheek. "You have a good night too. And thank you Draco." She turned and nearly ran out the door, but he was too shocked to notice. Hermione had kissed him! A wide smile crossed his face as he savored the first truly kind touch he had recieved in five years.

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End Part Six

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_Thanks To:_

Jivanna: I'm glad that you like, and thanks for the compliment. The highest to award a writer, don't'cha know ^_^

Seeress: Welcome Back! And chocolate is a great way to begin anything, so I used it. I hope this section was up to par.

And thanks to everyone for reading! Now reaview so that I can thank you by name!


	7. Part Seven

_Warning: This part is a little choppy and very short, and I may come back and revise it a little when I have more time, but I hope that you enjoy it as is, even if it is a little rough._

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_Aftershock: Part Seven_

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Draco spent the next few days doing work outside the office, and it was starting to get on his nerves. Fate seemed to be trying to keep Hermione away from him, but only when he really wanted to see her again. He had been kicking himself since she dashed out his front door for not finding out where she was staying. Then maybe he could see how far this new … feeling between them went.

His dreams had been getting worse. No longer did he only have to contend with being so in love and so content and so peaceful in his dreams only to wake up alone in his bed. Now, he dreamt of losing her. Of the Death Eaters making one last come back, and taking her away. It was a fear that gripped him through the day, every day since the notion had occurred to him.

He knew that when he was at school the world had been safe from his father because everyone _knew_ that Lucious Malfoy had worked for Voldemort, curse or no curse. Nobody had trusted Lucious after that, even though he still had had influence. Suspicion had saved the world from anything that the Malfoys could do. It was the ones that nobody had suspected that had caused the most damage. The Moody imposter during fourth year, Peter Pettigrew being attached to Voldemort at all, Percy Weasly… Harry had dragged Draco to the Ministry headquarters after that revelation. It had been during the "There are better things than Power" lessons, and it had been painful.

He shuddered and shied away from the memory, and finished his lunch. So far he had found five reporters using the dark artifacts of spying to get information. It was their luck that these artifacts weren't particularly powerful or particularly harmful. They had been classified as dark because of their ability to remove inhibitions. _Kind of like being drunk_ Draco mused. The behavior of the people under the influence was about the same too. He had finished gathering the Scarf of Speech which compelled a person to keep talking while they were wearing it, the Ring of First Thought which removed a person's impulse control, and the Scroll of Endless Adventure that was helping a reporter make her columns more interesting. And he'd done it all in the last three days. He was busy deciding whether or not having people so scared of him was a benefit to his job.

As he walked down the avenue of shops, Draco felt a bit of nostalgia wash over him. It often did when he was alone with his thoughts, but he had tried to keep the memories restricted to his time at Hogwarts. Now, he remembered the first time he had been at Diagon Alley. He had been allowed to go with his mother when he was six, and it had been wonderful. Things had been so big and strange in every shop that they went into. He remembered the first time he had seen a racing broom in a shop window. It had been love at first sight.

A smile came unbidden to Draco's face as he drifted through the memory. His pace slowed, and he felt like window shopping, just to see how much had changed, and what was new.

"How'd you talk them into letting you go Malfoy!?" A shout came from behind him. He didn't need to look to see who it was. George Weasly had become the single most recognizable voice in the Wizarding world, thanks to damage done to his vocal chords in the terrible months. Draco took a deep breath and tried to decide if fighting back would be worth it.

"I didn't." Draco replied and tried to continue walking. George wasn't done with him yet, though.

"Yeah, so why are you out here, a free man while my brother's locked up in Azkaban like a Death Eater!"

_Because he was a Death Eater._ Draco thought as he turned to look into rage-filled eyes. Old hate and rage were emotions that Draco understood very well, and he knew that no matter what he said, George would never believe him. The Weasley's would never stop hating him.

"Answer Me!" George advanced a step, and Draco prepared for the beating. He deserved it for so many things that he had done, but it was only fitting that he be punished for something that had been out of his control.

"I can't." He looked into George Weasley's eyes, and discovered that he was strangely calm. He had always thought that this would be harder, coming back to a world that thought he had tricked his way out of the Dementor's Kiss. But he was calm as George's hands clenched into fists and he advanced again.

"George Weasley, take two steps back _right now_." The voice boomed, and Draco was tempted to duck for cover. Looking around, his eyes met the worried brown gaze of Hermione as she stood next to a pale Molly Weasley. Suddenly it looked too much like one of the fights at Kings Cross station, outside the Hogwart's Express, and yet not enough.

George was looking down at his feet, muttering the explanation that his Mother had demanded. When he was finished, Mrs. Weasley walked up to where draco was standing, and looked like she was trying to say something. Draco hoped that it wasn't what he thought it would be. Mrs. Weasley had been the only one to apologize to him for the behavior of her children, no matter how much he had deserved the treatment. He had sneered at her before, but respected her for it now.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley." He tried to beat her to the punch, knowing that whatever words he could possible say would never be adequate. It did stop her train of thought though. She looked at him expectantly. "For...everything..." He had to stop, search for words. Nothing was coming to him, and he began to panic, the fear that should have come with George's actions flooding him in the face of Mrs. Weasley's calm regard.

"I know Mr. Malfoy," and wasn't it just fitting that she said his name the same way Snape had said Potter's in class, "I also know that if it weren't for you, my son would have gotten nearly half of our forces killed before the battles had even begun." Draco had to look away, a strange mix of guilt and pride filling him, as it did usually when he thought about the terrible months. "I also know that you did it without having any idea who you were trying to expose, and that you couldn't have possibly framed my boy. For exposing Pearcy, and for only that, are you forgiven." Her voice was cold, lacking even the disdain that Snape had shown Potter. Draco nearly lacked the courage to look up, but finally met her eyes.

"It's more than I'll ever deserve Mrs. Weasley. You are a great Lady." She nodded, looked pointedly at her son, and walked away into the sparse crowd that was pretending not to notice them.

Draco sighed, and turned to leave too, only to see Hermione still standing next to him. There were tears running down her face.

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_End Part Seven_

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_Sorry for the lack of length, and that I won't be getting back to Draco/Hermione interaction until the next part. I hope that you like it anyway! And to Seeress (the **only** person to send me comments on part six) I'm afraid that midterms got in the way of updating quickly, but I'll be wrapping this story up in a part or two. Would you like to pick the setting for the big revelation? (Hey, I reward commments!)_


	8. Part Eight

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Aftershock: Part Eight

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Hermione couldn't control her emotions while watching Molly and Draco. The pain radiating from both of them was too much. George must have felt it too, because he stopped trying to get away from her and between his mother and Draco. Hermione was surprised to learn that it had been Draco to find Pearcy's allegiances, but she shouldn't have been. Finding traitors had meant being able to see past the old assumptions of what a Dark Wizard looked like, so the only solution had been to find someone who hadn't made the old assumptions.

It was Fate's own cruel humor that the one to do so was Draco Malfoy. Cruel to him, cruel to the Weasleys, cruel to everyone. Molly and George walked off, and Hermione let them go. Looking at Draco, through her blurry vision, Hermione had to admit that she had always loved him, even when she was convinced that his good qualities had been figments of her imagination. She had even loved the snarky bastard actually sitting in class, admired his quick wit with insults, his ability to see beyond people, usually for weaknesses, but it was the same skills that she used. She had prided herself that she was using them for good, but even she had to admit, that wasn't the view that the teachers had taken.

Now, unable to speak, she threaded her arm around Draco's and pulled him away from the crowd of lookers who were trying not to look. It was a testament to his own emotional state that he let her pull him. They needed to get away from people. She needed to talk to him, try anything to get that haunted, pained look out of his eyes. At the same time, she knew that nothing would ever remove the scars that he was living with.

~*~

Draco didn't realize where they were going until Hermione pulled him through the door of the Leaky Cauldron. They passed through the dining room and to the stairs leading to the guest rooms. _So this is where she's staying._ The thought was inane, but preferable to the others running through his head.

Molly Weasley had shaken him. He had known that she could, but to actually experience it, finally, was more than he had imagined. To be given the great gift of forgiveness, and yet chastised for his past behavior in the same breath, was somehow fitting. It took all of his willpower to snap himself out of that painful mental fog, and actually look at Hermione. She was still crying, but getting it under control, and pulling tissues out of a box on the nightstand. She offered the box to him, but he declined. He wasn't crying. It would somehow be selfish to cry.

"So, what now?" He asked, assuming that she had a reason for dragging him to her room.

Hermione shook her head, "I just needed to get away from the eyes, and I didn't want to leave you behind."

Warmth spread through Draco, and now he did feel tears prick his eyes, but blinked them away. _She cares_ The thought was fleeting, but helped Draco pull himself further out of the fog. He shook his head, ruefully. The way he was feeling, someone would think _he'd_ lost a brother or son rather than the Weasleys.

Draco felt his expression crumbling, and tried to stop it. She had offered the outlet for his emotions, by offering tissues, she had implied that it would be alright to cry. Now he wasn't sure that he could stop himself. He shook his head, trying to hide his emotions from Hermione. Turning away from her, he looked around the room, becoming more engrossed with the everyday items and untidiness of the place than he would have normally been.

"Draco..." her voice was quiet, uncertain. He knew that she was as hurt by the past events as he was. Maybe more, after all, she was closer to the primary sufferers than he was. He didn't know how to comfort her, even if he could do it without losing himself in his own emotions. He felt a hand on his shoulder, the touch as uncertain as her voice had been.

He turned to look at her, feeling as if he were drowning, not wanting her to see, and desperate for her to see, all at once. It was overwhelming. Her eyes widened as she saw his, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold the emotions back.

Draco Malfoy cried like he'd never stop, clinging to a crying Hermione as they both vented pain and sorrow that defied any other expression.

~*~

As soon as Draco left, Hermione began composing a letter to Dumbledore. None of them but Harry were ever on corresponding terms with their old headmaster, but no one but he could get Draco out of London. And Draco _needed_ to be out of London, or he'd continue stewing in his own guilt until there was nothing left.

She had seen it in his eyes, he was already suffering for what his father had done. To be accused for no reason other than his name would only hasten the crushing of his spirit.

She outlined all of this in her letter to Dumbledore. If she could convince Dumbledore, than Dumbledore could convince the Ministry. Hermione hoped that leaving London would take some of the haunted look out of Draco's eyes.

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End Part Eight

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next up: the last part. Finally!


	9. Part Nine The End

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Aftershock: Part Nine

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Draco sat at the Three Broomsticks feeling as if he were in a dream. Professor Dumbledore's letter had come through the Minister's office, leaving the Ministry with no choice but to let the last Malfoy into Hogsmeade. He could imagine the ire being directed towards him since then.

Surprisingly, he didn't care.

So now he sat, Harry Potter on one side of him, Hermione Granger on the other, and Ron Weasley sitting across from him, looking dubious. Dumbledore was throwing himself a birthday party, though nobody was quite sure which birthday it was, or even if it really _was_ his birthday, but everyone was having too good a time to care.

Draco was determined not to draw attention to himself, and thereby spoil the evening. He wondered if this was what Harry had felt like, during the bad times at school. Draco smiled to himself, once again surprised at his empathy, still a new and strange experience.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Weasley start to say something to Hermione, then blue eyes met gray, and Weasley leaned away, no longer trying to get his friend's attention. Draco debated with himself for a moment, then touched Hermione's arm, to excuse himself as politely as he knew how. Her moving to let him out of his chair put her closer to Weasley, and Draco had to cover a smirk at the surprised look on the red-head's face.

_Malfoy, being polite? Never!_ he narrated the expression as he dipped his head in a quick parting nod to Weasley, and walked towards the exit. The feeling of warm contentment followed him, and he was determined to enjoy it while he had it.

~*~

Hermione sighed as Ron started talking to her. All he wanted to know was about Draco. If he was evil, if he'd brainwashed Harry, if he had slipped something nasty into the drinks being served, on and on…

It took a great deal of self-control not to yell at her friend. Especially when he started speculating on stunts that George and Fred had been more likely to pull than Draco. Harry was sending her amused covert glances, and she was suddenly just so fed up with the both of them.

Grabbing a fresh butterbeer she plunked it down on the table in front of Ron, "Shut up and enjoy yourself already! Honestly, it's as if you didn't even know it was Dumbledore's party." She felt a wave of satisfaction when her friend's ears blushed. Sitting at the table, the old Trio together again, Hermione had an epiphany. Draco had left because he knew that Ron wouldn't talk to her if he had been sitting right there. Ron would have resented that, Ron resented Draco being here at all, and there would have been an argument later. She felt a tingle in her chest at the thought that Draco had moved so as to preserve whatever harmony was present tonight. It was a sweet, considerate, completely non-Malfoy thing to do. She felt a silly smile threaten to show itself, and raised her own butterbeer to cover the infant expression.

Harry was smiling at her in that annoying, knowing way again. She raised an eyebrow at him, and wondered how much he really did know, and how much he had guessed. She hadn't told anyone about her imaginary-Draco, feeling silly just thinking about it, so he couldn't know about her feelings for the new-and-improved Draco. Could he?

She decided that she'd had enough time alone with her thoughts, as a girl came up to the table and asked Harry to dance. He accepted, only stuttering a little, as Ron laughed and pointed out that their famous friend still had no finesse. It was probably something Ginny had said about Ron. "Finesse" was just the sort of word Ginny would use. Hermione left the table, butterbeer in hand, and went to go look at the stars for a moment, to collect herself before rejoining the festivities.

She also recalled Draco going in this direction when he left the table. He had been quieter and calmer looking since getting here, but she was still worried about him. This wasn't exactly a group he would be comfortable with, save Harry, Dumbledore and herself. At least, she hoped he was comfortable with her.

The air outside was cool, she enjoyed the feeling while she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark. It was a nice night, and this back garden was walled off from the street, providing privacy and quiet to the guests. 

As she looked around, her sight sharpening, she saw that Draco was the only other person present. He looked a little downcast, and a little hopeful as he leaned against the wall, looking strait up into the stars. He looked like a ghost, his coloring augmented by the half-light. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

"Would you mind company?" She asked softly. For a second she thought that he hadn't heard her, then he looked at her and smiled softly. She felt her insides melt, just a little, at the expression. It looked…tender, but that may be just wishful thinking on her part.

"No, I wouldn't mind your company. There were people out here earlier, but…" his voice was soft, and he stopped just as a dark edge entered his tone. She didn't need him to finish the though, she could guess.

_They were scared of you, and left as quickly as possible_

"Their loss, my gain." Hermione replied briskly, and moved to stand next to him, trying to see what he had been looking at. "Any constellation of particular interest to you?" she asked, hoping that she wasn't intruding on his thoughts. His chuckle surprised her, sounding as if it started somewhere deep in his chest. It was a soft, intimate sound, and she felt another shiver go down her spine, for a completely different reason.

"No. I don't think I could pick out more than one or two constellations to begin with. I just like looking at the stars, because they're the one thing that is the same regardless of if I'm in the Muggle, or the Wizarding world. They're calming."

Hermione felt more than saw him relax into the wall, letting it support more of his weight. His arm brushed hers, and she felt tingles erupt along her skin. He didn't move away, she felt her heart beat faster and tried to keep her breathing normal. She searched for another safe topic to talk about, just to keep him out here and with her instead of going inside.

"Are you glad that you came to the party?" She nearly smacked her forehead, marveling at her stupidity. His ability to travel, and lack thereof, was _not_ a safe topic.

"Yes, I'm glad. Harry says that you had a hand in Dumbledore inviting me." Draco's tone was amused and wondering at the same time. Hermione held her breath, hoping that he wasn't angry at her. "Thank you Hermione. You'll never know how grateful I am to see this place again."

She ducked her head, trying to hide her happy smile from him, _knowing_ that it was a goofy, undignified expression. "You're very welcome, Draco." He was moving again, and something within Hermione wailed at the loss of contact. Thinking that the quiet moment was over, she prepared to go back into the party as well.

She was shocked when she felt his fingers brush her cheek, then lift her chin so that she was looking into his face. He was so close, but the light wasn't nearly enough for her to see his expression, other than the fact that he was smiling, clearly. She was holding her breath now, searching for clue as to what he was going to do next.

"You are an amazing woman, do you know that?" His voice was still soft and low, turning her insides to mush. From the wonder in his tone, she knew that he wasn't aware of the effect that he was having on her. She _hoped_ that he wasn't aware of the effect that he was having on her.

"I'm just me." she protested, knowing that she sounded like the schoolgirl she used to be, only more uncertain. A frisson of anxiety washed through her as he chuckled again, but there was no mockery in the sound, only that same melting quality.

"Simply amazing," he breathed, his finders brushing her cheek again. His smile turned a little rueful, and before she knew what he was doing, he had leaned forward and brushed his lips along her cheek. The touch was softer than his fingertips, barely a whisper of sensation before he was pulling back again. Hermione thought she would have swallowed her tongue in shock if she hadn't caught the look of uncertainty and worry on his face before the light was at the wrong angle again, and he was masked from her. "Thank you for being amazing Hermione. I don't deserve it." His smile was back, and he was pulling away from her, really leaving this time.

Hermione knew that if he left now, this thing that she could feel building within her would never find expression. If she let this moment pass without doing _something_ than her lonely life would never be anything but what it had always been.

Never let it be said that Hermione Granger let opportunity pass her by.

~*~

Draco couldn't believe he had just done that, _said_ that. She was never going to speak to him again. He had overstepped the bounds, and now she had to know that what he was feeling wasn't just friendship, and she was probably disgusted…

_Get back to the party. Pretend it never happened. You are a fool Draco Malfoy._

He was moving to do just that, hoping that he could ponder his impending long life of solitude in peace among the masses, when Hermione's hand closed around his bicep, stopping him in mid-stride. 

"You're going to tell me I'm amazing, and then _leave_? A comment like that deserves thoughtful reflection, and a little gratitude on my part, I think." Her tone was teasing, but he could hear…something…under the lightness. He paused, then turned to look at her. Her expression was intent, highlighted by the light from the windows. She was glowing from the light, the opposite of how he had been using it to hide his expression, to hide what he was unable to keep off of his face when he was looking at her. The opposite…_how fitting_ he thought to himself.

"No gratitude required. I was simply stating a fact." She raised an eyebrow at him. It was an expression he remembered in equal parts from her and his own reflection during school. He had managed to be snotty and sarcastic with _himself_ back then. No wonder nobody had liked him. _Stop wandering away from the subject Malfoy_ a voice snapped in his head. It would seem that he could still be snotty to himself. Draco shrugged a shoulder in response to Hermione and waited for her to say something.

Her face was determined as she looked at him. It seemed that she was debating something within herself. Draco waited for the outcome, wondering what debate could possibly have anything to do with him. She searched his face, his eyes for something, and he had no idea what she was looking for, but hoping that whatever she found was to her satisfaction.

"I'm not amazing," she said suddenly, looking him in the eye, courage glinting out of her own. He didn't know where this was going, but he drew the courage to find out from her. He hoped, he prayed, that whatever she was leading up to meant that he would get to see her again, someday. She swallowed visibly, and Draco discovered that his heart was pounding, and he was holding his breath. "I'm not amazing," she repeated, "…but you make me think that I can be." It was a halting confession, and she looked surprised at it, as if that hadn't been what she meant to say. After a moment she tilted her head and smiled, still looking into his eyes. He felt like he couldn't breathe, something big was happening, and he had no control over it, though he knew it would change his life.

"I…I always wanted to change the world. You make me think that I can. Do you have any idea how wonderful that makes me feel?" He shook his head dumbly at her question, wondering how he could possibly have had any good effect on this woman's abilities. Her hand moved from his arm to touch his jaw, lightly, and he was lost. She became the world, nothing but her eyes, her voice, her touch existed. He could have happily drown in her.

"I imagined you, back in school," she was blushing, he could tell from her expression, could almost see the color, but she continued, "I imagined Draco Malfoy, my friend. I was trying to see if even my imagination could conceive of such a thing. It could, and did, and it was nearly painful to see you in classes after that. The good little Dark Wizard and the boy I had thought up were so different." There was actual pain in her voice, and he nearly reached up to stop her talking, to halt whatever it was that caused her pain. Her fingers moved over his skin lightly, freezing any motion he might have made, and she continued speaking in that soft, hushed tone.

"Yet here you are, Draco Malfoy my friend. Almost like I imagined you could be, all those years ago." Her fingers moved up to brush through his hair, pushing the strands away from his temple. His heart was exploding, with what emotion he wasn't sure, and he didn't think he could bear to hear the rest. "Almost like him... Your a much better person than the one I thought up. So much better, and that makes me happy. Because if you can be even better than the best I could think up in school, than anything is possible." He was hallucinating, he had to be. There was no other explanation as Hermione leaned closer to him, raising herself onto her toes to look him in the eye. Her hand on his shoulder, steadying her, was warm through the cloth of his robes. She paused, the courage in her eyes faltering as she looked into his, then she gathered herself, "Anything's possible, right?"

Her intent was clear as she leaned her lips towards his, and without thinking, without questioning, Draco met her half way. He threw himself into the kiss, wrapping every sensation into his mind, determined to keep everything in crystal-clear memory. She tasted like butterbeer, and smelled like spring flowers and old paper, and he would never be able to get enough. Standing next to her, holding her, forever still wouldn't be enough. So he drank in everything about the kiss, about her, greedily, to hold onto when she left, when whatever hallucinogenic drug he had inadvertently consumed had left him bereft, he would be able to hold onto these memories.

He pulled her against him as tightly as he dared, kissing her as if his life depended on it. He knew that his desperation, his despair were bleeding through into the kiss, but he found that he couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to. And right now, his dignity wasn't even on the list of priorities.

~*~

Hermione's world had narrowed to just this man, holding her, kissing her as if he could pull her soul out of her and into himself. Yet, he was so gentle with her that she felt worshiped. Who knew that Draco had it in him?

But that had been her point, hadn't it? This Draco was so different from the one in school, and yet the same stubborn, prideful survivor that he had been in school. He tasted like joy and pain, hope and despair.

Hermione found herself clinging to him, lost in the combination of emotions she could feel him stirring up within her. She didn't know what she would do if he stopped, she knew that she didn't want him to. She felt strong arms around her, holding her to him, and cradling her at the same time. She had never felt so infinitely precious in her life.

Too soon and after an eternity, they had to breathe. Hermione refused to pull further back than it took her to focus on his eyes. His amazing, suddenly vulnerable gray eyes. Her lips and tongue were tingling, and she realized that, given a choice, she never wanted to be anywhere but where he was. The enormity of the emotion, the _knowledge_ took her breath away again for a moment, and she simply looked at him, trying to convey everything she was feeling into her eyes, so that he could share it with her.

One of his hands left her waist and came up to her face. He hesitated, then touched her as if he were afraid she would vanish if he wasn't careful. She had to smile at that, it was such an endearing thing, to have this former bully touching her so softly. Maybe he was feeling something like she was. It was enough to hope for, but she couldn't find the words to ask him, and she realized that she was also afraid of the moment, this feeling, vanishing if she said or did the wrong thing.

So she returned his touch, gently placing her palm over his cheekbone, running her thumb over his skin. She discovered that she was trembling, that she wouldn't be able to stand if he let go of her. She never wanted him to let go of her. Maybe, hopefully, that was what he needed to hear. Maybe this didn't have to be some memory she would turn to in the years to come, when the wanderlust had dragged her to some desolate location and she was feeling alone in the world. Maybe…

"Let me stay with you" she barely recognized the voice as her own, amazed and terrified that the words had actually made it out of her mind and mouth and into the inch of air between Draco and her. He looked as surprised as she felt. "I don't want to let go now that I've got you." Hermione felt like she had been squeezed too hard as her own bold statement, admission of deeper feeling, made it to her ears. Draco's jaw dropped.

_He's going to drop me. He's going to laugh and walk away. He's going to explain that there was something in the punch and this is just a joke. He's…_ Hermione closed her eyes against the rising tide of shame and pain as the silence stretched. She started sinking back onto the soles of her feet, pulling away from him, and the impending mockery, as she heard nothing but the sound of his breathing.

Then she was pulled tightly against his chest, his arms wrapped around her and her face pressed against his throat. He clung to her like a life-line, and all Hermione could think was that she had never been more relieved in her life. His voice was soft in her hair, and it took a breath or two to hear what he was saying.

"Stay, please stay. I don't want to let go either, don't make me. Stay." His voice, so soft and deep, repeating the words like a mantra against a nightmare. It spoke directly to Hermione's heart as she recalled the haunted, pained look in his eyes when he spoke of the years since his initiation. The absolute devastation in his expression after speaking to Molly. The joy and peace lighting his face from within when he spoke of helping the "good guys" during the terrible months.

Her heart ached with the force and scope of emotion. She loved him, she never wanted to leave him, she wanted to see every expression his face could produce. Even the snotty school bully expressions would be welcome to her heart. Hermione fought the urge to laugh at herself as she tightened her hold on him, trying to pull him closer to her than he was already, she wanted to give him all the force of the emotion that she was feeling. It was heady, frightening and she had never felt more alive. She spoke before she could talk herself out of the courage to do so.

"I'll stay if you want me. I love you Draco. I never want to leave where you are."

~*~

Draco stopped breathing. He was dead, and any second now someone was going to show up and tell him it had all been a big mistake. His reward would have to be taken back, and he'd never see, or feel, this dream come true ever again.

But she was there, really there. And he was still alive, his heart exploding and his lungs screaming for air. And she was holding him as tightly as he was holding her, and telling him that she loved him. All his strength, his barriers, his blasted Malfoy pride deserted him, and he knew that when they came to take her away from him, they would need to break his arms to get him to let go.

She pushed at him, but only moved away enough to look into his eyes, searching. And he had the words to answer her, but they were so hard to say. Battling with the ingrained lessons of the Malfoy lineage, he struggled. She saw, and smiled kindly at him, but the light in her eyes had dimmed. She didn't know what he was trying to say! She deserved better than this treatment, and he had never hated his ancestry more.

_Quite the turnaround Mr. Malfoy_ He could hear her saying how different he was from the old days. He could hear her admitting that she hadn't thought it would be possible for him to be the way he was now. The question was, was he different enough? 

He was. He was determined to be.

"I love you too Hermione." He thought he would black out for a second. He thought he could hear his parents wailing in rage all the way from hell. Then the joy in Hermione's eyes eclipsed everything else, and he felt his answering joy wash away all thought of anything beyond this amazing woman, and this situation, and he never wanted there to be anything else. "I love you too," he repeated as he leaned forward for another, calmer, more precious kiss.

Not even the Dementor's Kiss could get him away from her now.

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Epilogue

~*~

Hermione woke to the sound of the Daily Prophet arriving. She reached into the coin cup beside the bed, and tossed the copper gnut to the owl.

"It can't be morning already," a sleep-husky voice came from beside her, and she smiled down at the love of her life fondly.

"You say that every morning," she teased, but ran a hand comfortingly over the skin of his side. Draco sighed, turned onto his back and looked up at her. It was a sight she never got tired of, his gray eyes bleary from sleep, his expression softened, his blond hair a complete mess. She leaned over to kiss him, the leisurely play of tongue and lips quickly turning to something heated.

"Good morning love," she whispered, pulling away to admire all his pale skin and the mischievous smile that was slowly oozing across his face. It used to be the expression he wore when the teachers sided with him in an argument, now it was reserved for …other things.

"Good morning. I really hope the paper can wait." His fingers ran down her leg, eyes teasing as he looked up at her.

"The paper can always wait." She leaned forward again, pulling the deep green comforter of Draco's bed along with her.

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The End

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